Oh K!

Photo by Adam Hendershott


I love the Lisbeth Salander books by Stieg Larsson. I'm not going to write about them here, I'm going to borrow a term from the books. In describing Salander's troubled past Larsson calls the breaking point of her childhood "all the evil." It's something mentioned many times in the first two books, towards the end of the second book we learn exactly what the "evil" was. For the sake of ease, I am lifting the phrase and changing it a little. While I have alluded to the recent dramatic events in my life I have not gone into detail about it. That's not going to change because a)I'm sick to death of it, b)I'm so over it and c)I'm saving it for the screenplay. From now on those recent events will be known as "all the drama." So let it be written!

So I know I also said I wasn't going to mention it again but there's one part of it that's still swirling around in my brain. I'm going to mesh it with another idea I've been meaning to put on paper (or whatever it is I do) for a while. A love letter of sorts to my little girl.

Yes, another one.

The denouement of "all the drama" was a phone call D received, while I was not on that call I was privy to the message that preceded it. It was not pretty. Apparently the phone call was worse: a steady stream of anger induced insults and accusations ranging from the bizarre to the downright ridiculous. The culmination of the diatribe was a fear this person had for K, and how they felt sorry for her because she would have to grow up around D and I, apparently we are horribly appalling people.

So I offer you this horrible glimpse of the kind life my beautiful K has:

Please feel bad for my daughter, she has never been away from her parents for longer than 18 hours because they cannot bear to be away from her.

Please feel bad for my daughter who has gone to sleep every night of her life listening to her dads voice as he reads to her.

Please feel bad for my daughter who has never once been picked up from school by anyone but her parents. Playdates don't count because they require a parental pick up as well.

Please feel bad for my daughter who has seen at least one parent in the audience at every school event, dance recital, karate belting, speech giving, art show and anything else a child of her age has had.

Please feel bad for my child who is almost always the exception to the "no kids" rule because she is so amazing.

Please feel bad for my child who loves and adores everyone and never has a bad thing to say about a soul.

Please feel bad for my child who cannot walk through our local supermarket without greeting by name every employee and receiving hugs from those employees.

Please feel bad for my kid whose smile lights up a room and all of it's occupants.

Please feel bad for my child who at 7 is already an advocate for equal rights.

Please feel bad for my child who willingly parts with possessions knowing that they might make another person happy. Please also feel bad for my child who gets joy from seeing that happiness.

Please feel bad for my child who sees the beauty in everyone.

Please feel bad for my daughter who is the first person to run to the aid of anyone who is injured, sick or just not in a good mood.

Please feel bad for my daughter who has drawn a picture or made some kind of art project for every person she knows to let them know she was thinking about them.

Please feel bad for my child who would do anything to make you smile.

Please feel bad for my child who cannot stand to see anyone cry and will automatically cry out of empathy.

Please everyone, feel bad for my poor little girl who has been raised to exude compassion and acceptance, to seek the beauty in all things and to bring out the best in all people. Please worry about her future and what wonderful things she will learn growing up in a house with such horrible parents.

I weep for the future of anyone who does not get to share in all the wonderful things my little girl has to offer.

That would be horrible and appalling.